


Inevitable

by Legendgrass



Series: Inquisition [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/F, Fate, Hurt/Comfort, Pre final battle, Worry, impending demise, late main quest, lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:54:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26450719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legendgrass/pseuds/Legendgrass
Summary: “I want you to be happy."“Youmake me happy!”“Not if I’m dead!”
Relationships: Female Adaar/Josephine Montilyet, Female Inquisitor/Josephine Montilyet
Series: Inquisition [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1973458
Kudos: 42





	Inevitable

Ezra Adaar was standing on the balcony outside her suite when Josephine entered, as had become their habit: Ezra would scrounge up some food for an evening meal and Josephine would join her in her quarters to share it before the sun went down. It was the only way the Inquisitor had been able to get her ambassador to both take a break from her work and eat a decent meal once in a while. That, and it was one of the precious few moments of the day that they got to spend with one another. The Inquisition was a challenging machine to run. Maintaining a relationship at the same time, they’d found, was next to impossible. 

Which was Ezra’s current problem.

It wasn’t just the burden of leadership that kept the two out of each other’s reach for much of the time; it was the nature of the Inquisition itself. More specifically, Ezra’s particular role in it.

Ever since Mythal; ever since the reality of her final confrontation with Corypheus had begun looming at the edges of her every thought, Ezra had been haunted. Distant. Cold, even, to those she cared about most. She didn’t mean to hurt them, but she had begun to think that maybe the pain of separation now would offset the grief that would inevitably come later. When Corypheus defeated her.

Because that’s how this was going to end, wasn’t it? What was the strength of a single rough-hewn Tal-Vashoth archer against a self-proclaimed deity who’d been gathering power for ages? Corypheus was going to rip her to pieces, and the world she and the Inquisition had worked so hard to improve would be doomed. It, and everyone she’d grown to care about. People like Josephine.

It was better to brace themselves now, wasn’t it?

These were the thoughts marinating in Ezra’s mind even as her dear ambassador crossed the room toward her, heels clicking on the stone to announce her progress. Normally the Inquisitor would have felt a thrill as her partner approached; either of joy or something more base, on occasion, but today she was taken only by dread. She needed to speak to Josephine about this, and she was _not_ looking forward to the fallout. She kept her back turned to the door for as long as she reasonably could. 

It wasn’t long.

“Good evening, my Lady,” the Antivan’s warm greeting, more of a tease than a formality at this point, only served to twist the knife in Ezra’s already aching chest. She really did not want to do this. 

But she had to. And it was better to get it over with now than to drag out her suffering, she supposed, so instead of returning Josephine’s overture, she tightened her jaw and began in a clipped strain: “I’ve been thinking.”

The ambassador hadn’t quite reached her at the balcony yet, so she could not see Ezra’s grave expression. “A dangerous pastime indeed,” she returned. She had apparently missed the note of pain in the taller woman’s voice. For someone whose job revolved around reading people, Josephine could sometimes be so…innocent.

It only made this worse. Why, oh why did it have to be Josephine? She who had done nothing wrong; who had only ever been patient and radiant and loving; who was the last person in Thedas to deserve a relationship that could only go down in flames? It was only a matter of who started the fire.

“Josephine.” Ezra forced herself to turn and let her haunted gaze come to rest on her lover’s face. She could see the way Josephine’s brows twitched together immediately in concern; the falter in her step as she realized something was wrong. The Qunari swallowed hard, and even then the words barely made it past the lump in her throat. “I’ve been thinking…that we should end this.”

There. It was out. And it sounded so hollow; so cruel. So neglectful of all the experiences; the emotions; the tenderness they’d shared. Could it really all just end like that?

It had to. For Josephine’s sake.

The Antivan paled several shades. “Wh-what?” she stammered— _Josephine, stammering_ —and stopped in her tracks before she ever reached the Inquisitor. She was speechless for a moment, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. Then, “My—Ezra, did I—?” A hand curled over her mouth in shock; horror. She was shaking her head. Her expression was heartbroken; heart _breaking_. “Have I done something wrong?”

“No. Never,” Ezra insisted instantly, turning to fully face her. She instinctively wanted to close the distance to comfort the woman she loved, but she held herself back with effort. She had to clench her own hands around the railing. The fucking Anchor tingled at the contact, reminding her of its role in her pain. She hated it. She hated all of this.

Were those tears forming in the ambassador’s eyes? _Please, no._ “Then—”

“I’m terrified, Josephine, that if I let us fall too far, it will shatter you when I—” Ezra burst out, then broke off. It was far from the short, direct farewell she’d intended but never expected. She didn’t know if that was better or worse. 

Every time her heart beat, it hurt. She had never known that feelings could be this strong. Her forearms trembled with the effort of keeping her from rushing forward; embracing her love; taking back her terrible words. “I face death every day, and every day Corypheus looms closer. It’s only a matter of time before—” She stopped herself again, knowing that they both knew what she left unsaid.

“No.” Josephine’s eyes were still glistening, but her voice was strong. “No, I won’t let you do this.”

Ezra had feared this, too; almost as much as broaching the topic in the first place. She sighed shortly. “Josephine—”

“No!” The exclamation cracked like a whip. Only, it broke in the middle. “I will not let go of you that easily. We’ve only just found each other.” Josephine stepped forward, and Ezra had nowhere to retreat even if she’d wanted to. 

Her hips pressed against the railing. “Then now is when it should be easiest to part,” she argued hoarsely. She was looking down on Josephine as the woman came close, but those gray eyes seemed to pin her like their positions were reversed.

“Is that really what you want?” the Antivan pressed, peering straight into her soul. Ezra didn’t know why she asked. They both knew the answer anyway.

“I want you to be happy,” she tried miserably.

“ _You_ make me happy!” Josephine’s cry came out raw.

“Not if I’m _dead!_ ”

They both went still. A heavy, breathless silence turned the inches between them into miles.

But the ambassador did not let it reign for long. She let out a heavy, trembling sigh that sounded foreign on her lips. Then she reached up, cradled the Qunari’s hard-edged face in her hands, and met her eyes with all the force of a Storm Coast downpour. It sent a shiver through her like one, anyway. “Inq—Ezra,” she began lowly. Her gaze flicked between Ezra’s pale eyes. “All of us joined the Inquisition knowing the risks it might pose. All of us chose to follow your cause knowing that we might not live to see it realized. And I—” Here Josephine pulled her down and rose up on her toes so their brows met. Her voice fell to a whisper. “I fell in love with you knowing that our ending might not be a happy one.” She dropped her gaze and Ezra didn’t miss the tears that accompanied it. “But we have not reached the end yet. We still have time.”

Ezra felt like her chest cavity was collapsing in on itself. She reached up to bury her fingers in the ambassador’s hair, heedless of the careful arrangement, torn between holding Josephine close and letting her go. Why did things have to be so _hard?_ “Time is running out, kadan,” she said roughly.

“Then let me make the most of it with you,” was the immediate response.

“Josephine—”

“Please. Do not pull away. Not now.” Josephine pressed into her grip, dropping her own hands to curl around the front of Ezra’s armor. “Now is when I need you most, my darling.”

Ezra didn’t cry. Ever. She was a hardened mercenary, after all; she doubted she even retained the ability. But she felt her eyes prickle dangerously just then, and her breath shuddered out as she sank into Josephine’s embrace. With it went any hope of separating herself from this woman for either of their sakes. “Tell Sera to stay out of my shit when I’m gone,” she tried at humor weakly. She wasn’t in any shape to try arguing with Josephine further. It felt like a sort of surrender, and it filled her at once with guilt and relief.

“You may tell her yourself,” Josephine replied in an equally strained tone. Then a hint of actual playfulness managed to break the surface: “Although I expect she’d enjoy the drawings in your bottom drawer.” 

Ezra jerked back, wide-eyed. _How could she possibly—!_ “You—!”

“Leliana is not the only one with a penchant for secrets, my darling.” Josephine’s lips curled in a small but genuine smirk. “I am, after all, a master of the Game.”

Ezra let out a sigh, and a mite of her tension with it. “I don’t doubt,” she grumbled. She eyed her partner suspiciously. “Please tell me you didn’t—”

“Not to worry. I enjoyed them, too.” Josephine’s widening grin was the opposite of reassuring.

If gray skin could turn crimson, Ezra’s would have. “Josephine!”

The ambassador giggled, but all too soon it tapered off into a melancholy hum. The weight of their conversation would not slide off their shoulders so easily; not even over the topic of Ezra’s naughty artwork. Josephine deflated a little bit, sinking back into her companion’s ready arms. Things felt more right when she was there—for both of them. “Just do kiss me, Ezra. I am tired of thinking so much,” she murmured just loud enough to hear.

“That’s one thing I can agree with,” the Qunari grumbled back. She felt drained; defeated, even though she’d fully expected for Josephine to put up a fight. She only wanted to guard her loved ones against the tragedy that was her fate. Was that too much to ask?

When the price was Josephine’s heart, she supposed so.

The ambassador pulled back just enough to slide her arms around her lover’s neck, and Ezra took her gently by the chin and tilted her head up so the distance between them narrowed to nothing. The touch of their desperate lips hit her just as hard as it had the first time. Harder, even, now that she knew that they were nearer to their last kiss than their first, one way or another. She tilted her head and pressed closer, the way that always drew a little gasp from Josephine. The contact seemed to last a hundred years and a fraction of a second all at once.

Then the Antivan broke away, lowering herself onto her heels so she could rest her head against Ezra’s chest and relocate her arms to her waist. “Please come back to me,” she whispered into her breastplate as she held her lover tight.

Ezra only leaned in and kissed her tenderly, sadly, on the forehead, and it was far from a promise.

…


End file.
